


Storm of Regrets

by BarPurple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, F/M, Regrets, Sad, no happy endding, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 16:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10222379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: Trying to drown in whiskey is not going to solve anything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Monthly Rumbelleing Smut: Storm, Adultery, Warmth, Loneliness, Rough

Rumple swept the curtains across the window closing out the storm he’d been watching rage across the sky for the last half hour. There was no warmth in the room he was forced to look at now, but the burn of the whiskey he threw down his throat would serve instead. His bitter laugh at that thought echoed around the empty house as he slumped into the armchair by the cold fireplace. There wasn’t enough whiskey in this realm to burn away his shame, he’d broken his vows and that guilt seared through his veins.

The glass shattered against the hearth. Rumple blinked at the shards wondering how that had happened. Oh, he’d thrown it hadn’t he? With a resigned sigh his fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle and he drank a slug directly from its uncaring lip. It didn’t help because the bottle was empty. He opened his hand and let it fall to the floor and conjured another which fell into his lap. Apparently he’d drunk enough to make his magic sloppy. He squinted at the floor and found half a dozen empty bottles there, ah well that would explain that then. It was amazing the glass had lasted this long. He would regret this in the morning. 

His bitter laugh bounced over the walls, unnaturally loud in the silence of the house that had never managed to become a home. A hangover he could cope with, just a minor everyday regret to add to the growing list of massive life mistakes that he’d accumulated over the long, lonely years.

He twisted the cap off the new bottle and took a hearty slug. The burn was there but not the numbing sensation he craved. He’d clearly hit a plateau in his plunge into the abyss. This was always a rough part of his new drinking ritual, he’d either do something stupid like teleport himself to the wishing well and yell obscenities at the sky before he passed out, or…

He shifted in his chair and groaned as he felt his half hard cock rasp against his clothing. It was going to be one of those nights. He stared at the tent in his trousers and wondered why he couldn’t be a normal drunk with brewer’s droop? Bloody Curse, had to twist the emotional knife didn’t it? He could ignore it, but that would leave his uncomfortable and disrupt his quest for oblivion. With a weary sigh he wedged the bottle between his hip and the chair, and unzipped his trousers. A fast unsatisfying wank and he could get back to drowning his many sorrows.

He grunted as his cock responded to his rough first touch, this wasn’t about pleasure, this was just a practical solution to his physical discomfort, unfortunately his mind wasn’t on board with that. Images of the last time he’d made love with Belle rose unbidden behind his eyes. He swore and released his cock. He had no right to use memories of Belle to fuel his self-abuse. He took a shaky breath and focused his thoughts on his last fuck with the Evil Queen. His fingers wrapped around his cock which had soften in protest of his choice of mental images. Maybe this would work, keep thinking of the Evil Queen and the desire for release would fade. For a few tugs on his cock it looked like he’d found a new solution, but then he flicked his thumb over the head and remembered how Belle would run her tongue over him. He cock surged into full hardness so quickly he gasped. His hand squeezed at the engorged flesh as he considered his options. What was one more regret? He eased back into the chair and let happy memories of Belle flood his mind while he stroked his cock. The last time they had shared a bed, her welcoming arms and soft sighs, the feel of her smooth skin under his palms, the ever present wonder that his touch was welcome, desired even, the gleam in her eye as she pushed him flat on his back and slithered down between his legs, the taste of her, the drowsy kisses they had shared afterwards. It didn’t take long before his breathing was reduced to harsh panting and his balls tightened. His seed splattered over his hand and onto his shirt, but he barely noticed. Tears of shame and regret ran down his face as he curled himself into a ball and sobbed his misery into the empty room.

In the apartment above the library Belle woke with a start. The lingering warmth of the erotic dream faded from her skin leaving her chilled. She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes trying to force the images of her and Rumple making their son from her mind. She’d been so happy, but there was no going back to that time, too many bridges had been burned by their lies and actions. Her suitcases were already packed, in the morning she would leave Storybrooke for good, but for what remained of tonight she cried for the life that she’d be leaving behind.


End file.
